


Skin Deep

by TheMamaFox



Series: Home is where the Heart is [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMamaFox/pseuds/TheMamaFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a quiet moment, Lavellan shares an elven custom with her Commander</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Deep

Lavellan was resting on her large, and she felt foolishly elaborate, bed that Josephine insisted in purchasing in Val Royeaux. Shems and their beds. Though at the moment she was thankful for the space as she was sharing it with a large soldier. 

Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the open balcony doors. With help from Cassandra and Leliana she had managed to free an entire afternoon and evening with no obligations for both her and the Commander. They needed this and she had an idea.   
  
Cullen’s head rested in her lap, his eyes were closed and his blonde hair starting to curl around the edges. His bare chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. He was simply beautiful and she sent a prayer for him to her gods and to his, if they would listen. They both believed in silent gods.

She ran her fingers lightly over his face, tracing the curves and scars. A tray next to her held a glided hand mirror, a small tub of paint, a thin paint brush. When Solas asked her what it was for she merely smiled. She doubted he would approve of what she was about to do and she wasn’t inclined to share something this private.  

Her finger glided down the bridge of Cullen’s nose to the tip. “When a Dalish comes of age they receive their vallaslin, blood writing.” 

Cullen opened his eyes and tilted his head back slightly to see her better. He chuckled. “Is the paint to make me Dalish?” 

“You would be celebrated among the Dalish, a strong hunter and a protector of the People.”   
  
In stolen moments they had been sharing details of their lives before the Inquisition - childhood, family, the dreams of youth and the goals of adulthood. Despite the apparent differences there was much in common. He had asked her what her markings meant months ago. She told him exactly what he had inquired about then. Now she thought to show him. 

The idea came her to when she was walking through the rotunda and found Solas sitting on his scaffolding sorting through his paints and preparing the next section of wall. It was a game the children of the clan play, pretending to be older. They would paint their vallaslin on and run through the trees chasing imaginary threats away from their camp. 

It took planning. They were making a quick trip to the Hinterlands to hunt some Venatori with Dorian and she remembered seeing the purple berries growing along the cliffs during an earlier trip. No one questioned her when she stopped to gather plants. Maybe they thought it was a Dalish custom and she was glad not to explain. The paint brush she retrieved this morning on her way to tell the commander she required his presence at lunch in her room. She hadn't told him what she had planned for them lest something interfere, as it often does.    
  
A soft smile played on his lips and she curled over him to kiss them before continuing. “When the day comes they are left to meditate on the gods and what it means to be Dalish and free. They will bathe with special oils to purify themselves. When they are ready the Keeper will begin.” 

She gently picked up the brush and dipped it into the paint. She had assisted in several blood writing rituals in her duty as First. Sharing her culture with the human man who loved her brought up loneliness for her clan but this is what she knew. Her duty was to teach, no matter who had the questions.   

“During the ritual you must remain still and silent. To show signs of pain would result in the Keeper determining that you are not ready for the responsibility of being an adult in the clan.” She gazed down at him, forcing a serious look on her face. 

He reached up and cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing where her vallaslin was embedded into her skin. “Was it painful?” 

“Yes it was but it was a good pain. When you stretch sore muscles it is painful but you know the result is that you become stronger. This is the pain of the vallaslin, the hurt of being an equal in the world.” 

“I… understand.”   
  
And she suspected he did. The pain of the lyrium and the lack. He ached into his bones but he was stronger every day. He had told her he would endure it and he had with silent grace.   
  
“Are you prepared for the responsibility of being in Clan Inquisition?” She giggled at the thought, an army of painted men with the lionhearted Commander leading them.   
  
“Till death” and he made it sound like he meant so much more. 

She bent over him and began. The paint glided on smoothly with each stroke. This was not a vallaslin of the Dalish. Instead she painted Fereldan designs, sharp angles and lines. Simple for a simple people who value hard work and honesty. His eyes never left her face, golden and shining.

She laughs when she’s finished.  His face too human, too wide under the temporary vallaslin. She gently pushed him up to sit and placed the small mirror in his hands so he could see.  He studied himself for a few quiet minutes. She couldn’t understand his expression. She feared this was too much and he saw their differences were too vast…. Until he looked to her and his smile was brilliant. 

She grabs his painted cheeks, kissing his eye lids. His arms wrapped around her tight and he whispered “Does the Keeper of Clan Inquisition approve?”   
  
“Always, my warrior, ma’arlath.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Ma’arlath = my love


End file.
